


to dance again (i've been waiting all my life)

by feymoonie113



Series: minbin royalty au [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dancing, M/M, i am simply gay and love this dynamic, tho tbh there was no research done for the sake of historical accuracy or integrity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feymoonie113/pseuds/feymoonie113
Summary: “Show me.”“Huh?”He cocked a brow up in amusement and elaborated. “I’ve found the best way to see if you actually know something is to teach someone else. So. Show me how to dance.”
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Series: minbin royalty au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885219
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	to dance again (i've been waiting all my life)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! yes, it has been months, but i have not forgotten about this series! so let's not talk about how long this was sitting in my docs, and just appreciate that there were far fewer months between me posting than there were last time 🙃 
> 
> (also, high five to anyone who knows where the title is from)

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Changbin paused, freezing in an almost comically stealthy pose. "I...uh…”

Minho shot him an unimpressed look from Changbin's own table, perching on the large chair with more comfort than his manservant should probably have. His legs were crossed at the ankles and thrown out in a careless fashion, but the blanket crushed behind his back and spilling onto the floor suggested that Minho had likely sat there all night, waiting for him. 

"Hm?" He prompted when Changbin remained silent. "Did you forget that I've known you for years, your Highness? Or that I am the one who makes your bed and assists you to sleep and wakes you up in the morning, etcetera etcetera." Minho waved his hand lazily from the seat, lifting a brow in question. "Did you not think I would notice if the prince had disappeared in the night?”

“I—Maybe?" Changbin stammered, struggling to wrestle down a conflicted, guilty expression.

“Oh?" The other eyebrow rose. Minho stood and walked over, maintaining eye contact as he circled the wide desk and met Changbin in the center of his bedchamber, folding his arms casually. From the corner of his eyes, Changbin saw the blanket drip slowly to the ground, but Minho paid no mind to the soft thump on the stone floor, so focused was he on staring him down, that Changbin said nothing about it. "So tell me then. What were you up to in the dark hours, Highness, out on your own without a guard or your manservant?” 

_Oh, he was calling him by title,_ Changbin though, _he_ must _be upset_. He tried furiously to recall the excuses he had prepared in his mind while he walked here. 

He rarely lied to Minho. Despite their casual antagonism, he saw his constant companion as more of an ally, a friend. But it had already taken much of his pride to search out Hyunjin, and most of his night to do what they had done. 

He was tired, too tired to do anything more than deflect, and so Changbin lifted a rebellious chin, straightening his hunched form to his not quite significant height and said, "I have no duty to explain myself to you. Or did _you_ forget that you are simply my manservant, not my father or mother or instructors?" He forced his voice cold, cursing internally when it came out a touch brittle, as well, betraying his exhaustion.

The face across him closed off, adopting a blank expression. "I see. Nothing more than a simple manservant?" Minho scoffed and stepped back. "Well, by all means, if my service has overreached, I will gladly step down so that a more suitable aide may be selected for you. If my years of accompanying you have been so unsatisfying, that is." He swooped down in exaggerated submission, folding into a deep bow.

The facade cracked at that, heart twisting the words in Changbin's chest as his hands reflexively reached to pull him upright. 

"No—I—Minho, stop." He said, and sighed. "Of course, you’re more than a manservant, don’t be so dramatic." 

Changbin began nervously picking at his day old clothes, shifting on his feet under the still steely gaze. After a moment of tense silence, Minho crossed his arms once more, looking slightly appeased as he leaned against a bed pole. 

“So, where were you?”

Changbins hands tapped his leg restlessly, giving another short sigh before he answered slowly. 

"I was with Hyunjin.”

Minho's face froze in a strange expression before he began spitting out questions. "All night? Why? What were you two doing? Did neither of you bring any accompaniment?”

Changbin brought up his hands to stop the verbal assault. His mind raced to come up with a reasonable response. "Yes, all night. He...asked to speak to me privately so I visited his chamber, and we ended up talking for hours until we fell asleep. And, no, we didn’t bring anyone because we were in his room the whole time—we only left briefly to steal something to eat from the kitchens." He sucked in a deep breath when he finished.

Minho squinted his eyes curiously. "Why did he want to speak with you privately?”

Changbin shot back with a deadpan look. "Well, I’m not exactly going to break his confidence now, am I?”

“Break it.”

"No.” He gave an even more deadpan glare.

Minho huffed. "Fine.” 

He returned it with amusement. "You may not _just_ be a manservant, but you should remember that you _are_ one. Demanding gossip from your prince about the visiting prince’s secrets isn't exactly proper, don’t you think?” Changbin, sensing that the interrogation portion of his morning had ended, walked past Minho to strip off his outer jacket and toss it over his chair.

Minho sniffed matter-of-factly. "You prefer me improper.” He shouldered past Changbin to grab his coat and hook in up in his wardrobe.

“I—" Changbin stopped, caught off guard by the wording. "No, I do not.”

Minho whipped his head around at the sound of his flustered voice, catching his shyness and gasping teasingly. "Your Highness! I only meant that I knew you favored an interesting conversation partner over one who was cowered and pliant in your presence.”

“I’m sure you did." Changbin said, quickly recovering from familiar antics with a lofty eye roll. "And we can carry on this _interesting_ conversation as you lay out my clothes for the day and draw me a bath. My body aches from sleeping on the floor.”

Minho snorted, but moved to reheat the water already prepared for him. "It’ll hurt more after you spend the evening stiff necked and suffocated by stuffy nobles trying to get into the young prince’s good graces at his first official dance.”

Changbin’s eyes shifted at that, following the slight smile he’d been wearing throughout their rapport and dropping to the ground against his will. He could feel Minho’s gaze, knew it had likely turned curious at his sudden shy behavior because his lighthearted stance stiffened. 

“You’re not telling me something.” 

The accusation made Changbin bristle a little, the petty desire to reiterate their different statuses, to remind Minho that he didn’t have to tell him _anything_ bubbling in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it, choosing to walk past him to the wardrobe himself. 

Minho spun around and followed him, leaning against the closet door so that Changbin would look at him. “What is it? Is this about the party?”

Changbin paused, hand still on one ornately carved handle, half buried behind Minho’s back, and then he sighed. He turned to lean on the other panel door, shouldering Minho to the side for room on its wide expanse. 

“Yeah. It’s about the party.” 

He leaned his head against the bumpy wood, pressing back hard and turning it side to side to help ease the pressure in his head, built up from a long night awake and no breakfast. 

Minho stared, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I hate it,” said Changbin, sighing again. “Attending these things, I hate it—which I’m sure is no great news to you.”

Minho snorted. “One of the first things you ever said to me when we met as children was that you didn’t want a festival for your birthday so, yes, I’d say I’m familiar with that particular facet of your personality.”

“Right.” Changbin remembered the grubby face that had looked at him so strangely when he'd said that, confused as to why the equally grubby boy he’d found hiding from the crowds in an alleyway thought he had a say in royal proceedings. Years had passed since his extravagant eighth birthday celebration, and now, on the day of his coming of age ceremony, Changbin was still looking for a nook to slip away to.

He shook himself out of the memory, and turned to face Minho. “I’ve never liked being trussed up and paraded around for people to see, but I’ve done it, I’ve gone to these events plenty of times, but—” He broke off and chewed his bottom lip, picking at the skin there before Minho reached over with a silent scold in his eyes and pulled it out. 

“What?” He prompted. 

Changbin took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, so Hyunjin didn’t actually want to talk to me last night.”

“How rude.” Minho interjected, keeping a mock serious expression until Changbin whacked his chest for interrupting.

“ _What I meant_ was that he wasn’t the one who asked me to visit him, _I_ asked him for help.”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed. “Help with what?”

Changbin had moved to picking at the skin on his fingers, peeling the tags around his nails enough that drops of red welled up. “Well—and this is going to sound silly—but… this is the first party where I’m going to have to dance with someone.” He kept his eyes on his hands as he muttered the words, waiting for the laugh that was sure to follow them.

There was no laugh.

“So you… spent the whole night dancing with Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho’s voice sounded strange as he strung along the question, and he wore a similarly strange, pinched look when Changbin finally glanced up at him.

“ _Prince_ Hwang Hyunjin.” Changbin couldn’t help but say.

“Sure.” And the pinched look grew more sour. 

Seeing this, he rushed to say, “It was only for practice, so that I don’t _completely_ embarrass myself tonight.” 

Changbin wasn’t quite sure why the desire to explain himself was so strong. Sure, misunderstandings were sure to arise from the admittedly clandestine nature of their midnight meeting, but for some reason the thought of Minho thinking anything other than dancing had taken place made Changbin’s stomach squirm.

“Haven’t you had lessons before? I’m fairly certain that I’ve had to wake you up quite violently for those in the past.” 

Changbin shrugged, shifting his weight on his legs, shuffling sideways to avoid a handle in his back. “I’ve gotten by with those for group dances, but I’d never danced with another person alone before. I wanted to be prepared."

Minho was silent for a moment, face unreadable, and then he pushed off of the wardrobe, panel doors shaking slightly as he stalked to the middle of the room, turning back toward Changbin once he'd reached it.

“Show me.”

“Huh?”

He cocked a brow up in amusement and elaborated. “I’ve found the best way to see if you actually know something is to teach someone else. So. Show me how to dance.”

After hesitantly righting himself from his relaxed pose against the wardrobe, Changbin paused. “You want to dance with me?” He clarified, still a little dumbfounded. Minho forewent an answer and simply stretched out a hand, impatient, beckoning him closer.

Changbin slowly walked over, stopping a small distance away from him, eyes flicking between the waiting hand and Minho’s gaze as he reached out and took it in his.

“You’re leading, I assume?” Minho asked, humming when Changbin nodded wordlessly. “So now what?”

Changbin struggled to remember the steps that Hyunjin had led him through only hours prior, distracted by the warm weight enveloping his hand. He wondered briefly if it had been counterintuitive to have Hyunjin lead him to demonstrate his role. He certainly felt better following another's movements, rather than dictating the dance himself. 

With their connected hands, he pulled them in closer, til the heat of Minho's chest burned through the cool morning air seeping into his chambers, chasing the chill he'd felt since his walk back from Hyunjin's guest room. With his other, he lay the palm lightly on Minho's warm side, recalling the placement that Hyunjin had drilled into him, shifting it around to match the curve of his back.

Minho expressed nothing more than a faint curiosity as he allowed Changbin to rearrange their positions. A tense coil wound up in the silence the longer they stood there entwined, tightening and vibrating the air. 

Compressed by the atmosphere, Changbin's voice came out in a whisper when he said, eventually, "There's no music."

Minho tilted his head, picking up the hand that had been draped over his shoulder and flicking at the loose hair that fell around Changbin's neck. "You're stalling, Highness." He singsonged in a matching low voice. "Did you and the lanky prince have a bard present when you danced the night away? Or did you also sneak Jisung in to serenade you both?" His finger was moving to an unheard rhythm through the long piece of hair hanging by the side of Changbin's face, whose eyes squinted instinctively at the proximity, but followed its motion almost meditatively. 

With a shake of his head, Changbin grabbed the finger, then the whole hand, and laid it firmly down on his shoulder again, returning his own to Minho's waist, just as staunch. "I'll just hum something." He said, decisively.

And so he did. 

Inhaling deeply, Changbin let strains of a song familiar to him from countless parties flow out softly through his lips as he set them off on a simple dance. He watched their feet as he led Minho through stumbling steps, surprised at how easily the other seemed to pick up the movement. They didn't stray far from the makeshift dance square in the center of his chambers, turning clumsily between furniture. 

The song he'd chosen was a short one, and the dance soon ended, bringing them to a faltering stop. Changbin looked up, a tentative proud smile pulling on his lips from their moderate success, as he faced Minho. His manservant held a smile, too, but his shone with amusement, one eyebrow lifted at Changbin as they halted. 

He broke through the haze of accomplishment filling Changbin's head with soft, teasing words. "Is it custom for nobility to dance with their companion’s feet only?" 

"Huh?"

He sighed when Changbin titled his head in confusion, grasping his chin between his fingers and bringing the prince's face up to stare at him squarely.

"I'm sure your partners tonight will be very disappointed if they don't get a chance to look you in the eyes even once." He said, wryly.

Changbin flushed as the words registered, instinctually trying to duck his head down, but was caught by the grip on his chin. "Sorry, I—yes, Hyunjin brought that up, too." He let out a small sigh of frustration. "I'll just have to try and remember that tonight," he said as he began to pull away.

Minho's hold tightened before he could untangle them. "One more time."

Changbin looked up at him, a bit startled. "What? Why?"

"You were so set on practicing for this party that you spent the whole night dancing with Hyunjin, I think you can dance another song through with me." The words tumbled out of him in a rush. 

For a moment, Changbin just stood still and stared at Minho, lips now clamped shut and pressed together in what looked close to a pout, of all things, until his manservant began shifting under his curious gaze.

"You know what? Neverm—"

"Are you _jealous_?"

" _What_?" Minho gaped at him.

"God above, you are, aren't you?" Changbin laughed, a long and loud cackle that drowned out Minho's hissed denials. "Oh, I'd been wondering why you looked off since I told you where I was all night—imagine my delight at finding that you're simply jealous of our dear _friend_ , Hyunjin."

"Why bother imagining anything, you've made your delight quite clear." Minho's glare was poisonous. "And what on earth do I have to be jealous of him for, aside from not being stuck with you, here, in this moment?"

Changbin just grinned widely, wrapping his arms back around Minho’s waist, yelping at the pinch on the arm he got in return, but meeting tellingly little resistance beyond that. 

“Maybe you should be, he was a very good dancer, and a great teacher. Not a bad face to look at up at, either.” 

“Well, you certainly couldn’t look down at him, could you, Prince?”

In his giddiness, the petulant words and scathing tone only caused Changbin to laugh shortly again. He began to rock, twisting his upper body side to side with Minho in his hold, who held firm for a moment, but then sighed and allowed himself to be moved, swaying them into a childlike dance. 

There were no structured steps or poised stances. They simply shuffled around the room on clumsy feet, narrowly avoiding furniture and the constant threat of toppling over. Some time into their dance, Changbin began humming another tune, a stray snatch of song he remembered hearing children sing when he was young. Minho let out a small sound of recognition, and then they were both singing conflicting verses and laughing wildly as they hopped around.

After long minutes of this, they broke to a stop, falling back against the wardrobe, breathing heaving gasps through occasional giggles. 

"Well," began Minho, one arm still slung over Changbin's shoulder, just as the other's was still resting around his side. "I don't think you'll have to worry about disappointing your dance partner, if you plan to woo someone tonight. I, personally, would give a shining testament to your footwork."

Changbin gave out a high giggle, his head falling against Minho's similarly shaking shoulder to muffle it. "Oh, it's a shame that the party won't be _nearly_ as fun as dancing with you is."

A short silence fell, and when Changbin looked up, he saw Minho blinking in surprise. As their gaze met, he quickly recovered, speaking loftily, "I suppose there is something to say about having a good partner. I just hope I haven't spoiled you for any Hyunjins and non-Hyunjins in the future." His nose was pointed high into the air, so Changbin pinched it gleefully.

Just as Minho yelped through his next breath and moved to retaliate, a hard knock rapped on the chamber door, and they froze. After a beat, they pulled apart, pushing off the wardrobe and righting clothes until they looked presentable, if slightly winded.

The knock came again, and a voice called out.

"Prince Changbin?"

Changbin cleared his throat and called back. "Yes, come in."

A guard, Minhyuk, walked through the door and rounded the corner of the entranceway, bowing before he spoke. "Your parents have requested to meet with you in their chamber in one hour, Your Highness, in preparation of tonight's event.

A sinking feeling filled Changbin's stomach. He nodded to Minhyuk. "Thank you for the message, I will go to them within the hour, then."

He nodded in return, then nodded once more in acknowledgment to Minho, and left.

Changbin let out a long groan as soon as the door shut, sitting hard down on the edge of his bed. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and took a deep breath, feeling Minho's eyes on him the whole time. "Is it foolish to say that I wish our dancing would make up for all the prancing I'll have to do tonight?"

Minho hummed in thought. "It would be foolish to believe it, but it's not foolish for wishing."

Changbin sighed and stood. "I suppose I should actually have my bath now and ready myself for the day." He began to walk over to the tub in the far corner of the room, likely fully cold by now, but he was stopped by Minho grabbing his arm. 

His face was insistent, eyes staring Changbin full on when he turned back, and he spoke deliberately. "I have told you this before, but I will say it again. I will be there if you need me tonight."

Changbin didn't doubt him. 

With the weight of Minho's hands and his straightforward words, he recalled the day of the first event he attended as the guest of honor after Minho came to the palace, years after his eighth birthday. He had not been still the entire day leading up to it, not through his lessons and last fittings, not when Minho had attempted to dress him that evening.

The sensation of hands squeezing around his own, brought Changbin out of his memory to see Minho still standing before him, waiting.

Changbin leaned into Minho, forehead resting on his shoulder and breathed deeply, inhaling the comfort of his familiar scent and sighed as a hand immediately came up to brush over the back of his neck in comfort. "I know. Thank you." _For everything_ , he hoped Minho could infer, incapable as he was of listing out all the reasons he had to thank him.

The petting didn't stop. "Of course." 

He allowed himself another minute of comfort, then pulled away. Minho watched him silently as he steeled himself. 

"I can do this." He said, half to his companion, half to himself.

Minho nodded, his lips quirking up in amusement.

The short encouragement would not be enough to fully assuage his discomfort throughout the night—Changbin knew this. But the dread began to fade as he went about washing and dressing in preparation to meet with his parents, retracing his lesson with Hyunjin and indulging the warm corner of his mind that Minho filled, until it merely shaded the event in discomfort, rather than blacking it out entirely.

And the warmth never left.

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for the weird ending, i wasn't sure how to do it,,, so here's a short bonus scene that i couldn't quite fit into the narrative!
> 
> ~  
> "Are you nervous?" He asked him, dryly, as he buttoned up his shirt.
> 
> Changbin gave an incredulous scoff. "How could I not be?"
> 
> "Why?"
> 
> "What do you mean why?" Changbin asked, bewildered.
> 
> Minho kept his tone calm. “What do you have to be nervous about?”
> 
> “You—I—The whole kingdom is out there! Waiting for me!”
> 
> He raised an eyebrow and titled his head at Changbin. “You’ve been introduced before, what’s different now?”
> 
> Changbin gave a humorless laugh. “Everything is different now." His eyes stared at a point on the wall over Minho's shoulder, returning to a solemn gaze. "People weren’t discussing who I might be married off to on my eighth birthday." He paused. "Well. Maybe they were. You can never start too early, I suppose." He huffed out another fake laugh. "It’s probably more surprising that they can still speculate about it, since I’m not betrothed yet.”
> 
> Minho hummed, smoothing down his collar and fixing the creases as he took a moment to think. "So you’re worried about them talking about you?" He asked in a not-quite-a-question.
> 
> “I—I guess? That, and the fact that they’ll talk to me about it.” The thought of having to feign interest in whatever noble's poor daughter was pushed his way or speak at length of his own plans and desires for the future on his own sixteenth birthday was about as appealing as being repeatedly whacked by his teacher's sword in his lessons.
> 
> “Hmm, I see." Minho sat him down in a chair, pulling out a brush and opening jars of wax and oil.
> 
> “I see? That’s all you have to say?” Changbin looked up over his shoulder in frustration, huffing when he was turned back around just as quick.
> 
> “No. I was also going to tell you to find me." He gently began brushing Changbin's hair back. "If you feel uncomfortable and need space to breathe, just find me. I’ll hide you away for a bit, say that I have to fix your clothing or something—I’ll think of some excuse.” He shrugged loosely with one shoulder.
> 
> Changbin blinked, his throat unexpectedly growing tight. Clearing it, he said, quietly, "You’ll get scolded for not dressing me properly the first time and taking me away from our guests.” His eyes were fixated on Minho through the mirror.
> 
> “I know.” He slicked back one last stray lock with some wax, lightly tousling it with oil, before removing hands from hair.
> 
> Changbin grabbed the retreating hands unthinkingly and held them on his own shoulders, uncaring of the grease coating them.
> 
> Minho made a noise of protest. "Don't actually get your clothes dirty. I really will get scolded then."
> 
> "Sorry, sorry." Changbin released him, and laced his hands together in his lap, head down, trying hard to quail his nervous energy.
> 
> A huff came from behind him, and after a short moment, the hands were back, without their previous sheen. 
> 
> "I will be by your side in a second, Your Highness, I swear it."  
> ~
> 
> tysm for reading, please leave a kudos/comment if you liked it!! <3


End file.
